| |

What Wakes You Up in the Morning

ByElizabeth

A little after 5 this morning, the sound of the unexpected rain brought me out of my dream state.  I was not ready to rise, so I realigned myself into a good savasana and just listened — following no other thoughts — until the morning musical awakening arrived at 6.

I could have thought of it in this language:  the rain woke me up and I couldn’t get back to sleep, but I was still tired so I lay in bed until the alarm went off.

Hotels, I think, were on to something when they started offering “wake up calls,” though the sound of the phone ringing in the middle of an intense dream can be shocking.  When did we start naming the sound we use to bring us from dreaming to waking “the alarm?”  What perspective does it give to our day to think we need an alarm to start it?  Why not at least “alert” or “signal” for the days when the only technology (think about that piece of it) was a jarring sound?

I have been thinking a lot about what wakes me up since Becky passed away.  For 21 years, either Henrietta or Becky was lying on or next to me purring before any electronic signal could go off.  They knew when it would go off and every morning sought a little petting (and then food) before they heard any signal to start the day.  They incorporated it into their rhythm and created a good waking routine around my schedule.

Some of my waking with the cats instead of the electronic sounds must have been me ready to be shifted from sleeping to waking by the cats’ attention, because I am still waking 10-20 minutes before Bose technology utters an automatic sound (usually yoga chants) to make sure I get off to work.  I also know from conscious attention to the effects on my sleep from when and what I eat and what I put into my day and until how late, that when I am keeping my eating, practicing, and sleeping schedule steady, I have no need to be called awake by something outside myself to start the day.

Similar Posts

  • | | |

    An Environmental Perspective on Yoga

    ByElizabeth

    Every once and a while, I poll my students and ask them whether they find that they need less medication and medical intervention (testing and other procedures) than before they were regularly practicing yoga.  Students uniformly advise that they take painkillers less frequently.  Some students say they need lesser amounts or have been taken off other medications by their doctors.  Others note better sleep, less frequent colds, flu, or other common contagious illnesses.  Others have stated they have avoided recommended surgery by working hard to shift their alignment.  I personally have experienced great improvements in physical and emotional health from my steady practice, which has led to my doctor of 15 years agreeing that I need less medicine (note:  I am not advocating none) and testing. I think my making the commitment to practice to minimize health care consumption as one of the ways I personally take care of the environment.

    No matter what it is we are making, consuming, and disposing, and how we are doing those things, the four R’s of consumption to benefit the environment (refuse [i.e., don’t use], reuse, repurpose, recycle), start with not using things in the first place so that we do not have the environmental degradation of manufacturing and ultimate disposal.   We do not usually think about this in the context of medical treatment because we want to be out of pain and illness and for the most part, think of medical treatment as a fundamental right.

    At an individual level, lots of people would rather just take a pill (or even have surgery) than have to make a consistent change in behavior, physical activity, and diet.  There are also times when western medical treatment is the only effective treatment, and we are very fortunate to have it available.  Some people are not in a position in society to make a shift easily in this regard or to understand what it means.  But for those of us in the know, prevention not just of illness, but of medical consumption, by exercising, meditating, practicing therapeutic yoga, and shifting our diet, is a wonderful way we can personally seek to limit our reliance on fossil fuels and reduce our personal waste output.  In addition to eliminating the need to have the supplies manufactured, it will also keep medications that have passed through your body from reentering the water and food supply (which in turn has its own detrimental health impacts to society and to the environment).

    Has the practice of yoga changed you as a consumer of health care?  Have you ever considered the relationship between being a consumer of health care and your environmental impact?

  • | | | |

    Bare Bones of the Trees (and Pratyahara)

    ByElizabeth

    One of the things that I appreciate most about winter is being able to see the bare articulation of the shape of the tree in the absence of its leaves. A dormant tree looks very different from a leafless, lifeless tree. The dormant tree still has a vibrancy to it.

    As I enjoyed the beauty of the trees in Stanton Park this morning on my walk to work, I thought about pratyahara (withdrawal of or from the senses), which is the fifth step of Patanjali”s eight-limbed path of yoga and the bridge between life and physical practice (the first four limbs consist of ethical observances and restraints, asana, and breathing practices) and meditation. I have been led to contemplate the practice and meaning of pratyahara since the last meditation retreat I attended.

    From a renunciate perspective, pratyahara entails withdrawing from that which stimulates our senses. A renunciate would simplify and restrict what he or she takes into his or her system to free the mind from stimulation and make it easier to go into a space of meditation.

    Being careful to eat lightly, avoiding the stimulation of electronic entertainment, finding a quiet place to sit, and shutting our eyes before we begin meditating is part of the practice of pratyahara that all of us who practice meditation do as a matter of course.

    From a tantric perspective, I think pratyahara fits into our practice a little differently than for someone seeking to be on a reunciate path. We may definitely choose to minimize undue or excessive stimulation because certain types or amounts of stimulation feel out of alignment with our practices. For me, more than a certain amount of sense stimulation and certain types of stimulation can numb my celebration of and experience the spirit. Refining what I take into my system so I feel better able to live fully and celebrate and see the play of consciousness is different than renouncing objects that stimulate the senses or sense impressions themselves, as being less real than spirit. It is not renouncing things as unreal; it is picking and refining what to experience to better recognize and remember spirit. For the great siddhas, withdrawal from stimulation would not be necessary because they do not lose sight of spirit by either the cravings of the senses or being overwhelmed by reactions to stimulation of the senses.

    The trees seemed to me this morning to help elucidate this principle. The trees aren’t acting out of ego or greed or yearning to find happiness from the outside because of an emptiness on the inside. They are always open to the light and the rain. In winter, when they are dormant, they are not reaching for the light and rain or hungering for spring. They are there in all of their beauty open to receive nourishment when it comes. In spring, when the leaves start to bud and open, it is because of the light and the rain, but the essence of being a tree does not change or get distorted by going inward and resting or by opening to burgeoning growth.

    When we can simply open to all that is around us as spirit (beyond my capacities except at the rarest of times), then we can be open to the fullness of what stimulates the senses and still be practicing pratyahara. As long as we are swayed from the recognition and delight of spirit by stimulation of the senses, then we need to practice withdrawing on a grosser level to help us find the space of still being where we can be in the world of the senses without being tangled up and bound by it as such.

  • |

    Discomfort v. Pain

    ByElizabeth

    My friend Reya posted a good blog entry today on pain.  What John Friend says of pain is that it is nature’s way of showing that we are out of alignment.  I am in full agreement with Reya that intentionally causing ourselves pain is not what brings the most gain.

    We sometimes have to go into discomfort, though, to get out of pain, when we are practicing therapeutically.  What I tell my students, when they are seeking to use the physical practice of yoga to heal injuries, is that they want to practice mindfully enough to notice and back away from stabbing, pinching, tearing, or cramping sensations (you might think of other words to add to the list, but you get the idea).  On the other hand, intentionally embracing some level of therapeutic discomfort can be necessary to heal and grow.  An obvious non-yoga example is getting an operation to remove a tumor or fix something that is broken.  The operation is going to be a challenge, but it is better than not healing.

    If we are not used to holding poses for a long time or balancing on one foot or on our hands, our muscles may think they would rather slouch on the couch–though slouching on the couch may be what precipitated injury or ill-health in the first place.  The discomfort of working muscles more than we usually do, but to the right degree and in alignment, is radically different than the pain of forcing our body to do something beyond its current capacity that exacerbates existing injuries or causes new ones and does not sufficiently heed proper alignment.

    I invite you to practice slowly and with sufficient attention to know deeply whether you are just bringing on discomfort from right effort and changing old patterns that no longer serve or whether you are making yourself suffer for no real purpose.  No pose or distance or timing is worth injury, but healing and getting stronger and more flexible (as well as more courageous and expansive for what life brings to us) is most definitely worth some intentional discomfort.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.